Playing Raditz's Game
by foot soldier
Summary: There would be no saving Gohan without first playing Raditz's game, so Goku played it and opened up the door to delve into a world so cruel he could never have imagined it. AU.
1. The Game Begins

**Playing Raditz's Game**

_The Game Begins_

Eighty-seven. Eighty-seven bodies. The number was much too high for his liking, but still not high enough. With that in mind Son Goku dropped another body, another victim, into the mass grave he had built. He hoped they wouldn't stay there, not forever. His heart hurt to look upon them, at the mounds of bleeding flesh that stained the beaches surrounding Master Roshi's home. These people bled and leaked and crumpled in misshapen, unnatural positions from the wounds he himself had inflicted. And for what? The wrath of his brother Raditz would never be satisfied. At least, not by a number so low as a measly eighty-seven. Raditz demanded one-hundred dead earthlings and no less.

Goku didn't think his brother would be offended if he killed more.

But he only had eighty-seven, and eighty-seven would not get him Gohan back. Goku took a step back from the grave before him, sinking further into desperation with each step. He told himself he had to get his son back, and this... this was the only way. Chi-chi would understand. So would Krillen, and Bulma, and all the others. There was no alternative. He had never known the horrid feeling that washed over him as Raditz gave him the ultimatum until the very moment it occurred. Destroy one-hundred earthlings and his brother would return Gohan to him. Fail to fulfil Raditz's demands and... Goku couldn't bare to contemplate it. It made him sick, the hopelessness of it. There he had been, prostrate on the beach writhing in his own pain while his baby boy's wails filled the air with nothing he could do about it. Raditz outclassed him in every way that mattered – strength, skill, ability. Goku had known from the moment he felt the rapidly approaching power that his own ki couldn't hold a candle to the power that was on its way. Under normal circumstances it was an ideal situation. Goku loved nothing more than to charge into battle without a spare thought to his own self preservation, but there was one simple thing holding the young man at bay.

Raditz had Gohan and Goku would do nothing that would endanger his son.

Attacking his brother on a righteous mission of suicide, however appealing and glorious it may sound, would be to directly place Gohan's well-being in jeopardy. It was a risk that even he was unwilling to take, especially not when Raditz offered a solution so readily to the problem he had created. Kill one hundred humans, pile them on the beach, have Gohan returned to him. The equation was so simple, yet he had delayed action an entire hour after Gohan's kidnapping. His friends swarmed him, insisting they would find another way to save the boy from his uncle, but Goku's heart knew better. There would be no saving Gohan without first playing Raditz's game.

So play it Goku did.

His feet had left behind prints in snow and deserts, stealing away persons to be counted as Gohan had been stolen from him. No one opposed him anymore. Krillin had tried. Tien had tried. Even Yamcha had pulled his head from the sand once he knew what was happening to try to stop Goku from parading down the warpath he had chosen. But as Raditz outclassed him, Goku outclassed the rest of the warriors on Earth. What had been a common joke – _no one can stop Goku once he's made up his mind! –_ was now a living nightmare. His tremendous strength had been turned on the people and planet he loved in the twinkling of an eye, at the moment of a stronger stranger's bidding. And there was absolutely nothing to be done about it.

Eighty-seven.

Goku groaned and sunk to the ground in one of the last patches of pearly white sand to be found on Master Roshi's island. Before him the ocean stretched out in beauty, but behind him his victims rotted, their flesh spoiled from the sun that was now setting. The air around him was permeated with the rank scent of the deceased and the stench assaulted his sensitive nose. His face wrinkled at the unpleasantness and he lamented the heat of the night. Even in this place, in the middle of the ocean, the sea breeze did nothing to alleviate the rising temperature. He remembered there being many nights like this one not so long ago when he had lived on an island not far from this one and trained under the Turtle Hermit. Long, tiresome nights which involved a lot of flopping around while sleep eluded in a bed that seemed to boil in a house that was even hotter. A hollow smile came to his lips at the memory, a ghost of a laugh even building in Goku's throat before he was brought back to the gravity of the situation at hand. Shamefully, his gaze wandered with guilt in his eyes towards his handiwork on the beach and he felt his stomach clench painfully.

Eighty-seven. Eighty-seven people, and he had killed them all.

He sunk his fingers into the sand and marveled as the grains siphoned away the blood that had remained on his hands. Quietly he formed fists in the soft ground then threw the bloody handfuls of sand he had collected far away from his person. He wiped his palms clean against his pants feebly. Physically Goku supposed the blood was gone from his hands, but he still felt it there as if it knew where belonged and who to blame. Disgusted, he stood up and walked to the edge of the island and plunged his arms into the water up to his elbows in an effort to get clean. As he finished, though, he looked back towards the grave and his heart sunk. Ninety-two. No matter how bad Goku may have been at math, he still knew enough to know that meant he was still short a few heads to count and all of his preening had been for naught. With finality he focused his energy, rose into the sky in flight and left the island and its dead tenants behind, thankful that Krillin and Master Roshi had left several hours before with Bulma using one of her capsules.

He didn't want them to see what he had done.

* * *

Elsewhere and far, far away from his brother, Raditz sat perched atop of a large rock near the crater his pod had formed during his landing. The bridge of his nose was almost sore and bruised from being pinched as his nephew's utterly disgraceful squalling continuously filled the air. The brat simply _did not_ shut up. Hours ago the Saiyan had tossed the little wretch into his pod to try to negate some of the sound, but it was to no avail. The boy had Saiyan lungs and Raditz would testify to it on all his honor as a warrior of Planet Vegeta, whatever that was worth. There wasn't a Planet Vegeta anymore to be a warrior of, so he supposed the oath was now quite meaningless. He could have said on his honor as a soldier of Lord Frieza, but there was a traitorous little bud of a thought somewhere in the back of his less than exceptional brain that said there was no honor in serving the Colds. The thought grew from a seed planted by his prince so craftily that Raditz could have easily mistaken the thought for his own.

Grumbling, the long haired warrior left his rock and strolled to the edge of the crater to yell at his nephew to shut up some more. His orders were met with defiance which ruffled him, but he had grown used to being ignored by the brat in the past few hours. If his guesses were any good, there would be a point in the immediately foreseeable future when the boy would finally cry himself out and he would pass out in exhaustion. Raditz had some basic knowledge of children from which he formed his hypothesis. While not a common occurrence, brats weren't totally unheard of on the purging station he and the other remaining Saiyans kept as their permanent residence. They were noisy and a hindrance and a fair few of them wound up disappearing – mostly due to their own negligent parents, of course – but Raditz had come into contact with them. It probably had to do with the fact most of the children were given instructions to avoid all contact with Nappa, Vegeta, and himself, and so they found themselves targets for the little buffoons whenever they weren't on a mission for Frieza. All in all it was quite horrific and made for short Saiyan tempers which in turn probably accounted for the disappearances. Weary of yelling once more, Raditz retreated again to his rock.

As expected, Gohan tuckered himself out a half hour later and Raditz reveled in the moment's utter quietness. Using his scouter he assessed his nephew's dormant power reading and deduced he was sleeping. It was normal for an untrained individual's combat strength to dwindle down next to nothing while they slumbered and though Gohan's power level wasn't particularly high when he was awake, it was now almost microscopic. Perfect. Raditz stood once more and approached the crater, intending to release the boy from his makeshift cell. He thought he might even feed him – just to avoid hearing him complain, of course. He was in no danger of starvation at this point, not that Raditz would allow that, either. The brat was of no use if he wasn't actively being used to keep control over his disgrace of a brother, Kakarrot. That was the only reason the whelp wasn't dead by his hand already.

It was then that Kakarrot appeared quite suddenly, as if the very thought of his brother summoned him. In this part of the planet the sun had just begun to dip down beneath the horizon and Raditz smirked at the younger Saiyan in the waning twilight. Kakarrot's face was all business despite his disheveled appearance. His brother's orange gi was tainted an ugly shade of bloody crimson and the fabric had even ripped in some places. The smirk Raditz wore was met with only a steely, steadfast gaze that even he was having trouble reading. Perhaps his baby brother wasn't so predictable after all. Maybe Kakarrot was a real wild card, just like their father before him.

"Give me my son."

Or maybe, he was just as simple minded as he had originally been lead to believe.

"Now why would I go and do a thing like that?"

"You promised," Kakarrot reminded him, his voice hard and flat but still containing the faintest twinge of hopefulness.

"I guess I did then," Raditz chuckled. "Am I to just take your word that you really did kill one hundred of the earthlings?"

"I did," he spat. "They're on the beach. You can count 'em."

"Oh, I believe you," Raditz said darkly, approaching his brother. "You're far too honest and what's the term? 'Good natured' to lie to me. And you're afraid."

He knew Kakarrot was afraid of him and Raditz would even have liked to think poor little Kakarrot was having trouble refraining from shrinking away from his intimidating figure. The truth, however, was quite the opposite. The younger Saiyan before him was wrapped in barely checked rage and every fiber of his being was focused on not doing something incredibly stupid like blindly attacking. Kakarrot stood his ground and nothing more.

"If you believe me then give me Gohan," Kakarrot said firmly, earning another laugh from his older brother.

"But he just quieted down," Raditz crooned. "I was beginning to like him. In fact, I think I might keep him."

Kakarrot's restraint broke at that moment and his fury got the better of him, catapulting him into action when he had been forcing himself into dormancy. His fists flew and were deflected, his legs aiming for any opening his trained eyes saw but his kicks repeatedly missed their mark. Raditz was larger, stronger, and more skilled then his baby brother and when he was embarrassed enough by Kakarrot's odd and erratic behavior, he decided it was high time to toss his own punch. His fist connected with Kakarrot's jaw with a distinctive crack.

Kakarrot stumbled back, his hand flying to his damaged jaw with lightning speed, and Raditz stepped over him. He picked his brother up by the front of his orange gi, marveling for a brief moment at the added weight of the garment before tossing him like a rag doll straight into the rock on which he had been sitting. There was only the sound of a dull thunk as Kakarrot befriended the rock and so Raditz wasn't too concerned that he might have seriously hurt his brother. The older Saiyan clicked on his scouter's communications unit, tuning it to the frequency of his home purging station

_"Raditz? What do you need? All our readings on your pod are fine." _The crackling voice on the other end of the receiver belonged to a scaly alien who controlled the hangar who probably should have known better for his health than to question a Saiyan.

Raditz growled in response, "I am sending back my brother Kakarrot in my pod along with his offspring. Send a second pod to the Earth coordinates for my use after I finish purging the planet."

_"Yes, sir. Of course. We will prepare rooms for the Kakarrot and child."_

"Excellent," Raditz said. "Put them in Nappa's charge. He'll know what to do with them."

He exited communication. Nappa and Prince Vegeta were due back from their purging mission any day now with a prolonged intermission until their next assignment. He fully trusted that the other remaining Saiyans would prove adequate caretakers for his brother and the boy. With any luck, and Raditz was for some reason or another a phenomenally lucky person, Nappa would have already put Kakarrot through the wringer and trained him up to the level of mere embarrassment, not disgrace. Raditz didn't really care what they did with the whelp.

He crossed the grassy patch between himself and the rock where Kakarrot lay in a heap, too woozy perhaps to stand up. It was painfully obvious that his brother was far too used to being the strongest super power on the planet. Raditz nudged him with the tip of his boot and Kakarrot groaned. Yes, it was clear that no one had just tossed his brother around in a long, long time. _Might as well reiterate the lesson_, he thought. Raditz smirked and hoisted Kakarrot up over his shoulder, moving down into the crater where his pod lay. Unceremoniously he whacked the keypad with a brutal swipe of his tail, springing open the pod door. Inside, Gohan lay in the large seat, his small body tiny enough to use the cushion that barely allowed clearance for Raditz's hulking frame as a bed. The little boy stirred, sitting up and rubbing his eyes sleepily.

"D-daddy?" he yawned, his wide eyes slowly coming into focus.

Raditz punched the toddler square in the nose. "Shut up."

Gohan promptly began howling again, the sound grating on his uncle's last and straining nerve. He reached in the pod and yanked the whelp out by the tail, the poor boy lolling into a state of comatose as all lower caste Saiyans did when their tails were grabbed so viciously. None too carefully, Raditz placed Kakarrot into the seat where he had previously been keeping Gohan then tossed the brat inside along with its father. He idly messed with the computer, ensuring his kin would be knocked out most of the trip and double checking to be sure they were going no where but to the purging station because he really didn't want to go through all this _trouble_ only to loose them in the space boonies. Satisfied, Raditz initiated the launch sequence and dashed away from the pod so as not to get caught in the closing door and rocketed into space along with them.

Climbing up to the edge of the crater, Raditz sat down on the ledge and watched as the pod seemingly flung itself out of the atmosphere. He personally didn't really understand the dynamics of the pods, but he knew the technology behind them was trustworthy enough and he hadn't ever had any trouble out of the pods assigned to him. The Saiyan leaned back on his palms as his pod disappeared into the night sky and sighed contentedly. Everything since he had landed on this backwater planet had gone exactly as he planned, a testament to his uncanny luck no doubt. A fiendish smile graced his lips as he laid down on the hard earth, tucking his hands under her head and he closed his eyes, the gentle sounds of quiet nighttime nature to lulling him into sleep. He would catch some shut eye first thing, he decided, then he would destroy the planet's infrastructure tomorrow.

* * *

**Author's Note: **No, these updates are not your imagination. This is the edited version of a story posted on 3/18/11. Proceed to next chapter for new content.


	2. Kickoff

**Playing Raditz's Game**

_Kickoff_

Raditz rose the following morning as a red sun crested in the distance. He sat up slowly from the ground which he had called his bed and cracked his thick neck and all ten of his fingers. Today was the day he began clean up duty on the job his brother had been sent out to do over two decades ago. He was deeply ashamed for his brother's inexcusable incompetence and found quickly that even the faintest thought regarding Kakarrot at that moment filled him with reproach. Raditz had wanted so badly, whether he would admit it or not, to find a little brother he could boast about. Instead he found Kakarrot who was so clearly wrong in the head that Raditz was having trouble trying to even conceive a situation that could have caused such trauma. He had heard of young Saiyans knocking their skulls as infants and having a fair few oddities later in life, but not like Kakarrot. His brother should have been fierce and bloodthirsty like all other Saiyans, but somehow his personality was unmistakably gentle.

Raditz kept coming back to the word _disappointment_.

But Kakarrot was not Raditz's current concern. He had already dealt with that matter the night before by exporting his brother and nephew off of their forsaken planet. They were both in Nappa's hands now, or at least they would be in approximately two months' travel time when they would arrive at the purging station. Estimated, he had about as long to wait until the second pod he requested came crashing through the stratosphere for his use. That meant he had two entire months, sixty one whole days, to drag out the annihilation of the Earth. The concept was almost laughable, if it weren't for the fact Raditz was deeply troubled by exactly how to go about the task.

The people on this planet were weak. There was nothing to deter him from utterly slaughtering every one in his path even without the use of his Oozaru transformation, a technique he could use in roughly three days time, judging by the wide and waxing moon he had observed briefly in the night. Raditz didn't know how to use the artificial moon technique and so he was completely reliant on the natural lunar phases of any planet he was sent to purge. By chance it turned out a full moon on Earth was near and the alluring promise made Raditz smirk into the foggy morning blissfully. Stretching once more, the warrior stood at the edge of his original pod's crater and formulated his plan for the day.

He needed to make his presence known.

Destroying the largest city he could find sounded like an excellent way to start and so he entered the thought on his mental tablet. In an hour or so he would see about taking flight and scoping out the immediately surrounding areas in search for a good, sprawling metropolis to massacre. He could already hear the terrified screams and yells, the tones of which were almost akin to music for his Saiyan ears. Years of working steadily for Frieza and under King Vegeta before that had given Raditz an uncanny ability to judge the weak points in structures so that with a few well-placed ki blasts, he could collapse buildings left, right, and center without even the appearance of effort.

But first... first he needed to find something to eat.

With that thought in mind, Raditz sniffed the air and placed a large hand on his stomach as the organ growled persistently. His nose was sensitive like all Saiyans and the air around him smelt faintly of salt and brine on the breeze. He knew those scents to be synonymous with the presence of an ocean which in turn meant fish, crustaceans, and maybe even tasty cephalopods. The thought motivated him and after finding an appropriate place for his morning piss, he followed the stench of the beach to water.

The ocean he smelt was the same one he had flown over looking for that stupid little island on which he had found Kakarrot, and true to fashion, it was abundantly full of delicious sea life once he looked a mile or two off the coast. Bigger fish lived in deeper water as a general rule, and since Raditz had a large appetite the more beastly sized animal he could catch, the better. He wasted no time in assuaging his stomach and quite hastily had devoured a great many large and scrumptious fish. There was something nice about eating food he had trapped or otherwise caught himself. Though it was obviously more troublesome, he preferred it any day to eating the mess hall styled food available to him when he was 'home' at the purging station.

With the issue of his hunger sated for the moment, Raditz recalled once more that his initial plan had been to destroy a city that day. But in the afterglow of his hunt Raditz realized that would have to wait. He wanted to visit that dopey little island to see the murdered earthlings if only to bask in the fruits of his domination of his brother's will.

Thirty minutes later and Raditz found himself dipping down out of the sky onto a bloody beach. It had been more difficult to find the second time because there were no readings on his scouter to lead him there and he hadn't had the foresight to record the island's coordinates. By memory he found the island exactly as Kakarrot had led him to believe he would. Mountains of fleshy carcasses were stacked upon the formerly white sand. He could tell where at first Kakarrot had been painstakingly careful. There were some bodies which laid perfectly as if they were merely sleeping. But then the body next to them would be laying at an awkward, unnatural angle or the eyes would be open and glassy. Raditz smirked, kicking one of the smaller bodies to the side and watching gleefully as its jaw lolled, the pressures of rigor mortis having deteriorated in the island's heat. He vaguely counted the cadavers but stopped when he reached forty or so, having grown tired of the smell and deciding that Kakarrot wouldn't have gone that far without completion.

"I hope you're happy."

The sudden intrusion of a female voice startled the Saiyan warrior, and he whirled around to find a woman standing on the beach. Her eyes betrayed her brokenness and Raditz laughed, regaining his composure. He recognized her now; this was one of Kakarrot's friends, the blue haired woman. He had seen her here just yesterday when this beach had still been pristine. Apparently she had had the same idea as him... what a stupid woman.

"Come to see my little brother's handiwork, have you?" he leered.

She took a small, almost imperceptible step back and away from him then stood her ground. "No. I... I came to see you."

His curiosity was piqued. He hadn't seen that coming in the slightest. "Well, then?"

"I know you've killed them," she said. "Gohan and Goku, I know they're gone. None of my friends can sense them anymore." Her voice was resigned, accepting. Raditz would almost think her detached completely if it weren't for the desolation that leaked from every fiber of her being and radiated from her presence. He looked her over and noted that this sadness suited her, and so he did not correct her that his brother and nephew were actually still living, though they might soon wish they were dead.

"Get to your point, little earth woman," he spat.

"You've killed them," she repeated. "So... so you've got no more purpose here, right? Just leave. Please."

Now Raditz truly laughed. How delusional, how utterly bat shit _insane_. Did she really think her intervention, that politeness and an appeal to mercy would make him leave? He clutched his side and slapped his knee while her face painted itself red from her neck to her brow. Raditz stifled his laugh and looked upon her again. Embarrassment suited her, too, he decided. He stepped toward her.

"What is your name?" he asked, circling her. She was much smaller than him, but so were most creatures from the planets he purged. Though he knew she must be terribly afraid, she refused to shrink back from him again. Not that she had anywhere to go.

"Bulma," she answered.

"Bulma," he repeated. "Bulma. Let me explain this in a way that you can understand it, Bulma. I intend to finish my brother's failed assignment. I will annihilate this planet and everyone and everything in it. I will leave no flesh and blood creature alive, no city standing. I will end them all and there is nothing you can say or do to change that by way of flattery or any other means. Not you, not your toy soldier friends."

To her credit, Bulma didn't flinch. "How long?" she asked.

Raditz's brow furrowed. "How long? You ask how long?"

She swallowed harshly. "How long until you do all of those things?"

The audacity of the question shocked him and the answer slipped from his lips unchecked. "A week, maybe more."

"Okay," she said. And there it was again. Resignation. Acceptance.

Raditz understood then that the woman before him bore no fear of death, that stupidity hadn't brought her here to meet him. No, bravery had. Stupid bravery, the bravery of one who already knew that inevitable death was at hand. The same bravery of his father when Bardock had tried to face Frieza alone. Bulma reached in her pocket and thew the small device she retrieved onto the bloody beach. In its place a primitive ship appeared and when she turned her back to board, Raditz let her go.

She could die another day.

Raditz left the island then, too, briefly looking back to incinerate the mess with a healthy dosage of ki. He took out the little pink house along with the mass grave, the building and bodies turning to ash and either blowing away in the wind or becoming one with the bloodied sand.

He turned away and reminded himself he was looking for a city. With a burst of energy he set his course back to the mainland, reveling in the sensation of flight. Raditz liked the feeling of going somewhere with a definite purpose. A soldier born and bred, he needed order and a plan to feel comfortable. He planned each day meticulously and when something unforeseen came up, he adjusted accordingly. Adaptability was synonymous with survival in the Cold Empire's purging corps and Raditz was built to survive.

For what seemed like hours he circled the skies, an unimpressed eye falling on the wonders of Mount Paozu and the surrounding area. The entirety of the planet his brother had called home bored him. Nothing caught his attention and more then once, he tossed a volley of blasts at the ancient rock of the mountains to entertain himself. Though he did not know it, one of these blasts destroyed his brother's home, burying Kakarott's wife and father-in-law in the rubble.

No one would ever know what became of Chi-chi. In the grand scheme of things, it wouldn't even matter.

* * *

That night at Capsule Corporation, Bulma locked herself in her room. She took a long shower and clambered into bed with no desire for anything or anyone. She and Yamcha were off, and not even the impending end of the world would make her lower her standards to take him back. And the world was ending. Raditz was here and Goku was dead. There was nothing to be done, unless...

Kami, to be a genius she was so _dumb._

The heiress leapt from her bed, clicking on her lamp and rifling through her desk for her old dragon radar. If she could just find the dragon balls, then they could just wish this all away and back to normal. Raditz had cited a week until the earth's destruction. That was plenty of time if she and the others hauled ass. Her brain was working at a thousand miles an hour at the prospect. Excitedly she turned the radar on and the familiar blips of light flickered onto the grid. One, two, three, four, five, six... Six? The radar showed only six dragon balls when she well knew that there were seven.

Bulma screamed and screamed. "Gohan!"

Goku's precious baby boy had been wearing a dragon ball on his cap and now one of the balls had disappeared off the face of the planet, right as the energy signals of both father and son had vanished, too. Bulma's heart felt like it was going to explode. Yes, the dragon balls were now obsolete, but she had every reason to believe that they were alive. She clutched the radar close her her heart and tears welled in her eyes.

"That brute wouldn't have sent away your bodies," she whispered. "You're okay. You've got to be."

The thought put her at ease. She still knew that she would die along with everyone else on her planet. There would be no wishes, and she knew there was no way that Goku would be coming back to rescue them all. Raditz had sent him away, and she felt certain she could count it as a trustworthy fact that her oldest friend was thoroughly incapacitated. But he_ was_ alive. That baby was alive. And if nothing else, she knew she could count on it that her death and the death of her planet would be avenged.

* * *

**Author's Note:** You're really not imagining it. I did update. What. What what. What. What. Thanks to those of you who have reviewed over the years. I never would have imagined the response to such a silly idea would be so... intense.


	3. Turnover

**Playing Raditz's Game**

_Turnover_

The earth moon would be full that night. Raditz had been laying low and waiting on it. In the two days since he had seen Bulma on the island he had only touched a few minor cities with minimal opposition, having opted to wait for his Oozaru transformation to truly begin his work. During the elapsed time he had grown increasingly bored. He was itching for some sort of action – the moon couldn't rise fast enough. Nevertheless, let it not be said Raditz couldn't enjoy the finer things, or a moment of downtime when it found him. That morning he had took a bit of a pounding from a green man who had attempted to apprehend him as he terrorized and ultimately destroyed a city to the northeast of the hot spring in the mountains where was currently enjoying a soak, eyes closed and thick muscles relaxed. He was nodding off when the intrusive noise of a motor filled the air, causing Raditz to groan and crack his eyes open. Whoever had arrived, and he had a fair idea to their identity, cut the engine and stepped onto the rocks.

"You know, you're a hard guy to find. I had thought you would be leaving a trail to follow, but you're too neat for that, aren't you?"

He recognized that voice now. "You again."

"Yes, me," Bulma said. "No one else even wants to come look for you. Cowards."

Raditz shifted and stood, "Now now, little earth woman. That's unfair of you. I did encounter one or two of your kind when I destroyed the cities that formerly lay to the northeast of here. I killed them, of course, but they did put in an effort."

Bulma refused to react to his baiting. He couldn't tell if she had known that her friends had tried and failed to resist him or not. Her expression was like steel. "I didn't come here to talk about your demolition schedule."

"Oh really?" he asked, turning around to face her. He stepped out of the water. "And why then did you come? Did you miss me that badly?"

Bulma blushed beautifully and turned away, "No."

Raditz laughed at her and dried his body by raising his ki before dressing. Bulma waited until she heard the sound of him slipping on his boots to address him again.

"I came to talk about Goku and Gohan."

"They're dead," Raditz said gruffly.

Bulma cracked a huge grin. "No they're not. You've only sent them away."

Raditz schooled his expression. "No, they're dead," he denied.

"Whatever, I know you're lying," she seethed. "And I wanted you to know I knew, and I wanted you to know that Goku will never let us be forgotten."

Raditz scoffed, "Duly noted."

His lack of response seemed to shake her, but still she spoke again. "He only gets stronger."

"Most Saiyans do."

"So he is alive!"

"He's dead to you."

That closed the conversation. She bit her lip and swung her leg back over the motorbike she had come on then kicked its engine back to life. Again, Raditz let her go. She was just too entertaining to kill this early in the game; too full of surprises to waste. How she had managed to figure out that her friend his brother and son were living was beyond him, and he half suspected she was bluffing. Either way, he wasn't quite ready for her to flicker out of existence yet. She was a ripe area for comedy and what did it matter that she knew Kakarrott and his boy were alive, anyway? They were on their way to the purging station now and they wouldn't be coming back. Besides, Raditz rather liked Bulma and her stupid bravery. He cracked his neck and stretched.

He would save her for last.

* * *

The purging station that Raditz, Nappa, and Prince Vegeta called home was one of the smallest bases on its side of the quadrant. It was built upon a watery planet that had once been inhabited by amphibious people who had long since been wiped out; there were virtually no remnants of their civilization now. The only things standing on the planet's limited land were dormitories and infirmaries for the warriors who lived there between assignments, a mess hall and five numbered training arenas, and the hangar. The rest of the planet was unusable swamp land that gurgled and hissed with pollution. All in all it was a desolate, uninspiring place with the primary function of prison for the Saiyans. Here they could do no harm, lead no coups d'état, and grow no stronger than what was carefully allowed. The three of them were constantly under surveillance and their power levels monitored for unsolicited jumps and spikes. Frieza wanted the Saiyan prince and his companions for pomp and prestige only. He didn't want soldiers he couldn't control, so they were carefully trimmed and pruned like bonsai trees. They were given just enough to be phenomenal by all other standards, yet kept at a level that was insignificant in the sight of Lord Frieza. They never went anywhere or did anything that wasn't painstakingly pre-approved. How Raditz had managed to gain clearance to go off hunting for his baby brother was beyond the Saiyan prince.

The third class among them was an unnaturally lucky bastard if there ever was one.

"The prince should report to the infirmary, sir."

Vegeta stared coldly at the reptilian caretaker of the hangar and narrowed his eyes. Of course he was to report to the infirmary. He was physically damaged; the beating his armor hard taken and the deep gashes in and bruising on his skin were evidence enough of that. His body's natural healing mechanisms were already at work knitting him back together and he had to return to the infirmary so that they could be stopped. A Saiyan's body grew stronger in both defeat and victory, and it grew strongest when left to its own devices. The regeneration tanks were efficient at returning a body to its prior state, but that was about it. The accelerated rate of healing didn't negate their ability to become stronger after sustaining injury, but it did hinder it. There simply wasn't enough time.

He brushed past the alien gruffly, Nappa following close behind. The larger Saiyan was shredded pretty well himself and doubtlessly had a date with a regeneration tank, too. So was life in the elite. Their higher power levels meant they endured the most difficult missions of the Cold Empire, and as Frieza's pet monkeys they were expected to defeat their targets with minimal effort, or at least with the minimal appearance of it. Appearances were everything. Appearances and power.

The infirmary was perhaps Vegeta's most hated place in the purging station. The gel of the tanks reeked and left a film behind that was impossible to scrub off for a week, and his subjugation to the doctors there merely served to remind him how totally under Frieza's thumb his life truly was. He was healed under the pretense that it was for his own good health, but the prince knew better. He had been kept small, kept weak, and kept far from his true potential.

But that would change._ That would change very soon_, he thought as the doctors fitted him with a breathing mask that sealed tightly to his face. Around his naked body the tank filled with gel as gas filtered into his air supply, numbing his senses and rendering him comatose.

When Vegeta awoke, the station's commanding officer Chamo was waiting for him, which was never the sign of a good thing. Chamo was a hulking figure of a man with deep crimson skin and hair the color of grain whose power level outstripped Vegeta's by several thousand units of measure. He would have been utterly wasted here in this insignificant purging station if it wasn't for his active role as warden to the Saiyans.

The prince stood and wrestled his breathing mask away with hollow-feeling arms. It would take a few minutes for the after effects of the regeneration gel to wear off, and until the did all of Vegeta's muscles would feel as if they were asleep. The tank opened and Vegeta stepped out on pins and needles, naked as the day he was born. He stood straight before Chamo, his tail whipping frantically behind him as he tried to keep balance.

"Prince Vegeta," Chamo said, "I trust your mission was a success?"

"Naturally," he spat. "What do you want?"

Chamo sighed. "Please, Vegeta. Try to have a little decorum." Vegeta didn't respond. He trusted is unamused expression spoke volumes enough for him. It was a successful assumption and Chamo sighed again. "While you were deployed we received a transmission from Raditz that he had indeed found his brother."

Vegeta turned his back to Chamo and his attention to the fresh clothes laid out for him by the doctors. "What a joy," he lamented, beginning to dress. Chamo ignored him.

"The Saiyan Kakarrot and his son will be arriving at the station in approximately two months time, Prince Vegeta. It has been decided that Nappa will handle the adult specimen and the care of the infant has been assigned to you."

Vegeta froze. "What?"

Chamo chuckled. "You heard me. Apparently Kakarrot's brother bred with the very species he was sent to end. Poetic, isn't it?"

"Damn disgusting," Vegeta allowed, fitting on the last of a pair of fresh boots. "Why am I being saddled with the brat? I'm the Prince of Saiyans, not the nanny of halfbreeds."

At this Chamo outright laughed. "Oh, Prince Vegeta. You slay me."

"Is that an order?" the prince asked sarcastically while reaching for his gloves.

"Hmph. All joking aside, Prince Vegeta, this is a very serious assignment."

Serious? It was babysitting. His time was wasted on this, time that could be spent trying to press the limits of his jailing to become stronger. Strong enough to end Frieza's reign.

"I can see you haven't grasped it quite yet," Chamo continued, "so allow me to explain fully. This child, this son of Kakarrot, bears the blood of your people. It's diluted and probably worthless, but it's there. And it had been tasked to you to determine whether or not this child, this Saiyan child, is an asset to the Cold Empire and should be kept, or if we will terminate him."

Vegeta stopped dressing. It had clicked.

"...Of course," Chamo drawled, "on the opposite end of the spectrum, if he's too strong... well. You know."

"He'll be killed," Vegeta finished.

"Precisely."

By this point in conversation Vegeta's body and extremeties once again felt as if they belonged to him. He stood up straighter and stared down his commander fearlessly and without the slightest suggestion he had comprehended what was being said. He was being given charge of Kakarrot's infant as an exercise in futility. The decision to terminate his charge had all but been made already. This was just another psychological bout between himself and Lord Frieza where the child would be the casualty. Kakarrot's son was just the latest nail hammered home that there wasn't a thing Vegeta could do to preserve his people, that he – the Prince of Saiyans – was a prince of nothing. There was no magical window of usefulness by which the child would be saved. Rather, he would be allowed to keep the child long enough to become used to it (because he would not _care_ for it) only to have it stripped away.

Honestly, it was almost as if Frieza had given up trying. His schemes for breaking him were getting more and more tired with every attempt.

"Are we finished here?"

The commander smirked. "Dismissed."

Vegeta needed no further prompting. He left the infirmary quickly and made for his quarters, a small room he had the distinction and privilege of not having to share with a bunkmate, and keyed the door locked behind him. He glanced around the spartan room which contained the few items he actually owned. None of it was very important; any of the objects and things he had placed value on had long since been taken from him. There were changes of clothes in his closet, a handful of books he didn't read on the shelf, and a bed that was akin to sleeping on stone. These were the things he had, these things and his pride. He slumped onto the hard bed and closed his eyes.

He wondered if the decision had been made whether or not to terminate Raditz's brother like it had already been made about the brat. It was a far stretch to imagine any kin of Raditz being particularly strong, so Vegeta doubted Kakarrot would be labeled as a threat, and Frieza's point would be well enough made by killing the child. Doubtless Kakarrot would be a burden just like his brother. Vegeta held out no great hopefulness that Kakarrot would be anything but another third class disgrace of what remained of their race, and the thought almost didn't bother him.

Vegeta had always been alone. Friendless, peerless. It was his destiny. He would become stronger on his own, and he would rebel against Frieza on his own, and he _would_ win. He knew it in his heart, felt it in his bones, and with that thought in mind the prince decided for the millionth time that he didn't need anyone's help to do it._ Nor their hindrance_, he thought, deciding as well that if Kakarrot proved a difficulty, he would terminate him himself.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Naked Saiyans. Naked Saiyans everywhere. Please review.


	4. Utility Player

**Playing Raditz's Game**

_Utility Player_

The time for escape was over. If she had started the moment Goku turned coat and fled, maybe she could have disappeared into inhabitable space. Now it was impossible. She was a genius, not a miracle worker. Even she couldn't ready a ship out of the ashes Raditz was creating from her home.

The full moon had fallen during the night after she had spoken to Raditz about Goku and Gohan and now it was waxing again, the promise of a transformation so terrible that no one would be left alive. There were barely any survivors the first time and Bulma suspected they had been allowed to live for sport. All of the great cities were gone and there was no way of communicating with the small towns and villages that remained. Bulma herself was one of only a handful of survivors from West City. She and her father had hid themselves away with a few of Capsule Corp's chief scientists in an underground bunker her father kept, but midway through Raditz's rampage it had collapsed, burying them in debris. Only Bulma had clawed her way out and that had taken her hours if not days. When she emerged she was weak and injured. Her ankle was still swollen and she could not lift her left arm higher than her shoulder, but she was alive.

For now at least.

She had been living in the least-scathed part of the wilderness east of her former home for six days after the full moon when she saw Raditz again outside of her little capsule house. There were enough supplies to last her ultimate end in less than a month's time stowed away in her dyno caps. She was almost living in luxury hidden away in the woods, camping out like she had as a teenager when she found Goku living in the mountains. Thinking about him brought a smile to her face. He had been so strong even as a little kid, and so incredibly innocent.

And he had never lost that, not until the very end.

Bulma was in total reverie when Raditz appeared suddenly, silently, and without warning.

"Thinking about me?" he jeered, rousing her from her daydream. The smile she wore slipped slowly from her face and she struggled to keep fear from replacing it. She gritted her teeth.

"Hardly."

The Saiyan chuckled, approaching her makeshift home. "This is really something that you've built here," he remarked, running a hand across the cool metal of the building. "How did you manage it so quickly?"

"I didn't, it's a dyno cap," she responded dully, crossing her arms over her chest. "It's basic technology."

Raditz frowned. "Interesting."

He rapped his knuckles against the house frame once or twice and a cool metallic ring filled the air. Silence followed. The forest around them was quiet and still and Bulma shifted her weight from foot to foot nervously. This was the first time that Raditz had sought her out instead of the opposite way around. She felt exposed; it was okay for her to instigate contact, but for Raditz to seek her was something else entirely. He paced around the house for a moment or two longer examining it then turned to examine her.

"You're hurt," he said bluntly, taking in her injuries. Bulma looked down at her still-swollen ankle. Yes, she was hurt, and in addition to that her skin was riddled with nicks and bruises, no thanks to him. And she told him so, which only served to make him laugh. He rubbed his eye, "Feisty one, aren't you?"

Bulma drew back. "What do you want, Raditz?"

"Nothing," the Saiyan insisted. He took a seat on the doorstep of her home. "Did I injure you?"

It was Bulma's turn to laugh. "No, I fell down some stairs."

"The Oozaru transformation can be difficult to control," he said as if it were an apology, as if it were okay. Bulma didn't accept it.

"What do you want?" she asked again. She didn't think Raditz was the type to pay meaningless house calls.

"Nothing," he reiterated. "Truly."

_Maybe he means it_, Bulma thought. "It's been longer than a week."

"Hm?"

"It's been longer than a week," Bulma repeated. Her voice held more confidence this time. "Last time I spoke to you, you said you'd destroy this place in a week or less. But you haven't and I'm still here."

"And who's to say you aren't all that remains and I've come to finish the job?"

It was a battle to keep the fear from her face. "I – I – you're lying."

Raditz smirked, "I am. But I will come to you for that purpose eventually."

"Then why not just kill me now and be done with it?" she asked evenly.

"Because," Raditz said, standing up. He towered over her. "Where would the _fun_ be in that?"

It wasn't hard for Bulma to imagine the types of things the Saiyan lording over her would find fun and none of them matched her definition of the word. Her eyes caught the motion of Raditz's tail thrashing behind him and she looked away, sucking her lip. She needed a cigarette.

"There wouldn't be any," she answered bitterly.

Raditz clapped, "Such a smart woman. See, this is why I'd like to keep you."

_Keep you_. The phrase sent shivers down Bulma's spine. He sounded alarmingly sincere. Literal. Like he would take her as a possession if he could. She wondered what was keeping him back from taking her. Whoever kept his kind in check was a being Bulma hoped never to tangle with if she could help it. From what she had seen and experienced, Raditz was too strong to take orders lightly. She watched him carefully as he seemed to lose interest in her, his attention once more falling to her house.

"You don't have to do this," she said at length. Even she could hear the hopefulness dripping from her voice and she hated herself for her own transparency.

"Don't be ridiculous," Raditz scoffed, "I _want_ to."

Bulma didn't believe him and told him so. His fingers closed around her throat so quickly she never saw him move.

"You will regret this," he taunted darkly. He was close enough that she felt his warm breath on her cheek, heavy and agitated.

Bulma struggled against him and his grip tightened. She couldn't breathe and she realized that Raditz was going to kill her. She had finally insulted him enough, had goaded him into action. She couldn't find that she regretted it. Her vision was clouding and her consciousness was beginning to slip when he dropped her. Her injured ankle screamed in protest at the drop; Bulma hadn't even realized Raditz had lifted her from the ground. Gingerly she felt the bones and breathed a quick sigh of relief that they weren't broken.

When she looked back up, Raditz was already gone and she cried. She had wished so much that he would just kill her and get it all over with sooner rather than later. She was too cowardly – or perhaps too brave – to do it herself. He kept letting her go. Showing her mercy. Prolonging her life. Why couldn't he afford the same courtesy to the rest of her planet? Was it some sort of joke to him, a game of emotions? Did it satisfy him to see her suffer? _Probably_, she thought. She stood up and moved slowly towards the house that had to interested her Saiyan conqueror and took refuge inside.

She only wanted it to end.

* * *

_Initiating landing sequence._

Goku awoke to the sound of the pod's AI informing him of its every move. Groggily, he rubbed his eyes and looked out the red glass window of the pod at a small, swampy looking planet. He blinked rapidly. Where was he? How had he gotten here? The last thing he remembered was fighting with Raditz to get Gohan back. A rising feeling of panic flooded the young father.

Gohan!

Goku's panic was short lived. His son was comfortably curled up in his lap, thumb in mouth and still asleep. Sighing he allowed himself a moment of reprieve. Gohan was safe. He hadn't killed those people in vain. But where was he? Around him the metal shell of the pod began to vibrate with turbulence and Goku braced himself as well as he could, clutching Gohan's sleeping frame tightly. The boy began to stir, eyelids cracking open slowly.

"Daddy?" the boy asked uncertainly.

Goku shushed him, "It's okay, Gohan. We're going to be fine."

The child ducked his face against his father's chest as the pod landed roughly, jolting the pair of them. Gohan began to wail and Goku was attempting to comfort him as the door hissed open. A scaly alien peered inside.

"Welcome, Kakarrot," he greeted sinisterly, "to Purging Station 2414."

Goku retreated into the pod as far as it would allow, "Who are you?" he asked above Gohan's cries.

The being smiled and showed far too many teeth, stepping aside for a much larger alien to have a look. He was enormous with thick muscles and a height that dwarfed everyone and everything around him. He reached into the pod and grabbed Goku roughly by the shoulder, hoisting him and Gohan out.

"I'm Nappa," he introduced, setting Goku on his feet. "You've been assigned to me."

Goku blinked, looking around the hangar. There were pods and ships everywhere with strange creatures pouring in or out of them. "Where am I?"

"Purging Station 2414," Nappa answered, repeating the information that had already been relayed by the scaly alien. "This place will be your home until you have been fully trained and given commission. I have been assigned as your trainer at your brother's request."

So Raditz had sent them here to become what he was – a monster who annihilated planets for money. "Sorry," said Goku, "but I'm going to have to say no."

Nappa chuckled, "You misunderstand, Kakarrot. You don't have any other option."

Goku stared the giant Saiyan down. "There's always a choice."

"Not this time," Nappa said flatly. "Delgren, take the child. Prince Vegeta will be along shortly to collect it."

The scaly alien began attempting to wrestle Gohan his father's arm. When Goku tried to fight back he found his body weakened from his time spent hibernating in the pod, the creature called Delgren was able to overpower him. It bit him hard on the neck, fangs sinking into the tender fleshy and administering a mild poison that would cause a lapse in muscle control. Goku's eyes filled with alarm as all expression faded from his face along with his ability to move. He began to fall and Delgren easily plucked Gohan away from him.

"No... wait..." Goku gasped, fighting hard against the venom in his veins. Nappa picked him up and slung him over his shoulder roughly. His head lolled to the side and Goku found himself staring at a very amused and very upside down Delgren.

"Relax, Kakarrot. Delgren is in command of this place. He oversees all of this" – he gestured around the hangar – "and none of it ever goes awry. He's trustworthy. He'll take care of your whelp."

Nappa continued, carrying Goku out of the hangar and leaving Gohan behind as he did so. Immobilized, Goku screamed inside of his own skull. "Your brat will be in our Prince's care. It hasn't been decided yet what will be done with him, but you know how it is. Higher ups never have a clear plan when it comes to us Saiyans. They just close their eyes and hope for the best. He's safe for now, though, so don't you go doing anything stupid. You come from idiot stock, if your dumbass of a brother hadn't already brought you to that conclusion. It's in your best interest for you to try to differentiate yourself from Raditz. We can't stand to have another weakling in our midst."

Goku's only response was a steady _thwack thwack thwack_ as his head bounced with each step against the burlier Saiyan's side. While his body was still his mind ran, trying to understand and digest everything that Nappa was telling him. Gohan was going to be wherever this prince was and would be safe for now. That fact alone set Goku at ease. Somewhat. He felt inclined to trust Nappa, who spoke easily about the situation and seemed to have a good grasp on what was going on and what would happen next. Goku already knew he would have to find Gohan and escape this place – he just didn't know how he would do that.

Nappa stopped walking and Goku listened as he pressed a handful of buttons and opened a door. It was a dark and tiny bedroom with two bunks, one of which Nappa dumped him on unceremoniously. Goku stared at the ceiling.

"Remain here," Nappa ordered. "Delgren's toxins should be wearing off in fifteen to twenty minutes. I will return by then with new uniforms for you. When you are able, you will dress and we will begin your training in Arena 3."

Nappa left and the door closed behind him, cloaking the room in darkness. There was nothing to do but wait. Impatiently, Goku began to test his poisoned muscles. Within five minutes he was able to flex his fingers and he smiled into the nothing. Nappa hadn't expected Goku begin making a recovery from Delgren's attack for at least another ten minutes. But he could already move his fingers, and he could feel pinpricks all over the rest of his awakening body. Nappa had underestimated his strength.

Goku formed a fist. _Good._


	5. Man-in-Motion

**Playing Raditz's Game**

_Man-in-Motion_

Prince Vegeta didn't know what he had been expecting. Not this. Was this the way all children behaved? If so, Vegeta was certain he had never been a child. Kakarrot's brat had not stopped sniveling since he had collected the boy. It was both unseemly and embarrassing. Initially, Vegeta had brought the boy to one of the more laid back training arenas to test his prowess, but when it became apparent to the prince that the boy had no training experience they had left quickly before he could get hurt. He couldn't let the child die on the first day. No one would believethatwas an accident. Their next stop was the dining hall where Vegeta was currently trying his best and having no success at coaxing the child into eating something, anything at all, but the whelp just wouldn't stop crying long enough to eat.

"If you don't eat your body will run out of energy," Vegeta reasoned with him, arms crossed stiffly across his chest. "I cannot be responsible for any hindrances in your development brought on by self inflicted malnutrition."

What would have been a gut wrenching wail was the only response the boy made. In Vegeta it only elicited annoyance. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. This might be the worst assignment he had ever received but there was nothing to be done about it now. He was stuck with the brat until Frieza said differently and that was that. Vegeta swore he would murder Raditz when he returned for bringing this upon him. It was Raditz's blasted nephew, wasn't it? How then had Raditz completely shirked responsibility for both Kakarrot and the brat?

Luck. Sheer luck.

Luck was something that Raditz had in abundance and it was somewhat of a sore subject for the luckless Prince of All Saiyans. The lower class Saiyan had neatly avoided pain and suffering his entire life. When Frieza destroyed their planet, Raditz just happened to be off world despite the fact he absolutely shouldn't have been. At the age of 6 Raditz had only just returned from his first assignment as an infant, an assignment much like the mission his brother Kakarrot had botched, and should have been in training to prepare him to take on a more complex commission. Instead he had been rapidly sent back out into the field on a mission far too difficult for his weak power level and somehow survived it. When he returned Frieza spared his life, a fact which to that day Prince Vegeta didn't quite understand.

Vegeta had seen the evidence of Raditz's uncanny luck in other ways since then, too. Raditz was constantly getting better assignments and allowed more freedoms than he or Nappa, probably because of his weaker power level and the fact he wasn't considered an outright threat to the Empire. He had even seen Raditz wiggle his way out of using the regeneration tanks, and there was no explanation as to how Raditz had gotten the go-ahead to go looking for his brother. Everything broke Raditz's way. It was all very suspicious.

Not that Vegeta was by any means jealous. He could still blow Raditz into an oblivion just by raising his pinky finger, and power trumped luck every time.

"For the love of... Just shut _up,_" Vegeta growled. He reached across the table and grabbed a handful of food from the child's plate and shoved it into the brat's mouth.

The silence that followed as the surprised toddler began to chew was as nothing short of cathartic. He swallowed and for a moment Vegeta dreaded that he would begin screaming again, but rather he began to feed himself first tentatively and then with fervor. The prince smirked. Typical Saiyan. Hunger would always win out in them. Kakarrot's boy was no different.

"What are you called, boy?" Vegeta asked, turning his attention to his own plate. His lectures on maintaining their bodies' needs would be meaningless if he didn't obey his own advice. Saiyan bodies were always burning through calories, digesting and converting the energy they needed to always be battle-ready. The boy picked up his cup with two hands and carefully drank. Vegeta wondered lazily if the boy was still young enough to require cups with lids. He had heard vaguely of such things before, after all.

"I'm Gohan," he answered, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. Gohan sniffled a little. "What's yours?"

_What a stupid name_, Vegeta thought. "I am Prince Vegeta," he replied. "How old are you, Gohan?"

"I'm four. Where's my daddy?"

"He's very busy receiving training from my subordinate," Vegeta said simply. "In the mean time you will stay with me."

The boy looked skeptical and not a little bit afraid. "My parents don't allow me to talk to strangers."

"Your parents aren't here, boy," Vegeta snarled. "Now finish your meal. Your body will run out of energy. Saiyan bodies require a great amount of sustenance, particularly at your young age." The boy swiftly ducked his head and focused intently on his food, whimpering faintly. Vegeta sighed heavily. "Just... just finish your meal and I won't hurt you."

When Vegeta was certain that Gohan had eaten a sufficient amount, he took the boy to find new clothes. There were warriors in Frieza's ranks who were every bit as small as Gohan so it wasn't too difficult to find uniforms of the appropriate size. He couldn't train the child in the ridiculous outfit he had arrived in and at any rate the yellow outfit would soon be too small if Vegeta's guesstimates were correct. Given the proper environment and all that his body needed, Gohan would grow rapidly. It was simply what Saiyan children did, and what he was never allowed to do. Vegeta had grown up in a state of constant deprivation to prevent him from reaching the fullest extent of his potential, and while he didn't know how long Gohan would be in his care, he had no intentions of stunting him. He picked up a small suit and burned a hole in it with his ki to accommodate Gohan's tail.

"Dress in these," Vegeta ordered, tossing the uniform and pair of little boots at him.

Gohan fumbled awkwardly with his clothes, his fingers thick and uncoordinated. Vegeta cringed. This boy was an infant, an actual infant. While Gohan struggled to dress himself, Vegeta searched out spares for him and armor small enough. He tucked the things he gathered under his arm and turned to find Gohan clutching his hat and looking pale.

"Can... can I keep it, Mr. Vegeta? It's very important to me."

"Prince," Vegeta corrected him, assessing the garment that Gohan clutched so tightly. It was nothing but a child's hat with an ugly bauble attached to the top. Very harmless. "You may," he granted. "Though I would suggest not telling anyone that it has value to you unless you want it taken away."

"Yes, sir, Prince Vegeta," Gohan said rapidly. Vegeta disposed of the rest of Gohan's clothes.

After stopping at his quarters to put away Gohan's spare uniforms and hide away his sentimental little hat behind the books that no one had ever read, Vegeta showed him how to put on his armor. It took a few tries for Gohan to understand how it all clicked together, but he was bright and alarmingly eager to please. He looked up at Vegeta, eyes still puffy from his fits of crying, expecting praise that Vegeta didn't offer. Vegeta was never one to praise, especially not to anybody's face. Instead he brought the boy back to the training arena – which had now emptied as most everyone else was finished for the day – and began to work on fundamentals with the boy. It was slow going work, but by the end of the session he was already showing signs of improvement. The prince had no bunk mate so Gohan would be sleeping in the spare bed, a situation that Vegeta didn't much appreciate though he knew it was the safest thing for the child. He left Gohan, who was still in his new armor, sleeping and returned to the arena for true training before he himself would require sleep.

Gohan's current performance was dismal. He cried a lot and Vegeta wouldn't be able to train the boy in the presence of others for a while yet for his own safety, but he could see the kid's potential. He was promising and Vegeta knew that alone sealed the child's fate. It wouldn't matter how weak or strong he was in the end; Frieza wouldn't allow that kind of undeveloped skill to be unlocked and come to fruition. It was obvious that Gohan would be terminated, Vegeta just didn't know when.

* * *

Bulma was the most infuriating creature Raditz had ever had the displeasure of encountering. She got under his skin in the worst possible way, his brief brushes with her having repercussions that lasted for days without fail. She was the worst type of woman, the sort who assumed that she knew everything and thought it was her place to tell a man what she was thinking and why she was right. It was horrible. And yet he sought her again at her little metal house in the woods. 'Dyno caps' she called them. They were incredible technology for a planet so backwards.

She was no where to be seen when he approached her clearing, but his scouter told him she was there. Probably hiding from him inside like the flimsy walls could protect her, he mused. She was such a stupid, stupid woman. Stupid and brave and... beautiful? Raditz cringed at his own thoughts. She was nice enough, but she wasn't beautiful. Beauty was found in strength, and the woman was very weak, just like her people. When he left her last she was a crumpled heap on the ground and he had barely touched her. How Kakarrot had failed to conquer her planet was a mystery.

_He hit his head,_ Bulma would tell him later. _He hit his head and it made him kind._

Raditz approached the house and tapped lightly on the door, feeling embarrassed as he did so. He shook away the feeling quickly and realized how ridiculous the entire thing was – knocking. As if he needed her permission to enter her home. Inside of the house was still and when no one came to answer, he pushed the door lightly, finding it locked. He pushed harder and burst it open then stepped inside. Bulma glowered at him where she was hiding behind a sofa.

"No one said you could come in," she complained haughtily.

"As if you could keep me out," he scoffed, crossing the room in three long strides. He made himself cozy and took a seat on the couch near her, enjoying her discomfort. She grew stiff in his presence and tried to shift away from him without his notice. He smirked at her.

"You're bruised," he remarked, gesturing to her neck.

His hand print was clearly defined against her skin. She responded by tugging up her collar, effectively hiding the bruise as well as half her face. Her eyes were screaming at him, narrowed and with brows drawn. He reached out and tugged her sweater back down, revealing the her damaged skin once more. He wanted to look at it. She shivered as his fingers grazed her skin.

Absolutely_ infuriating_.

"I stand by what I said," she insisted quietly in the moments that followed. She pleaded, "You don't have to do this." Then she did something he didn't expect; she reached out for him, her brittle human nails catching the tense flesh of his arm as if the gesture were meant to hold him back. "You're so strong, Raditz. You don't have to do some tyrant's bidding... you don't have to kill the rest of the people on this planet. Not really, you don't."

Raditz blinked slowly. This woman was obviously delusional. He wasn't strong, not by a long shot. He had been kept weak by the Cold Empire, made sacrifices out of his own body to ensure the welfare of his prince. _Vegeta_ was strong; Vegeta would stand against the Colds. Not him. Raditz was weak. But he would concede it felt... nice to hear his praise from her mouth.

"No one can make you a killer," she whispered.

Raditz looked down at her, at her tangled blue hair, her bruised skin and welling eyes. Her lip was torn where he had pushed her away earlier, and her clothes ripped from the struggles she had endured. But the way she looked at him... such sadness, and such hopefulness. Did she really believed he would stop and spare the remaining people of earth? Raditz closed his eyes and relaxed for just a moment. He allowed himself to believe that she believed in him. Again it felt... nice.

He didn't feel like letting it go.

"I will spare them," he said at length. "I will spare your home if you return with me to mine."

Bulma reeled back and away from him as if she had been burned, and Raditz regretted the offer immediately. Of course she wouldn't come with him. He had killed all her friends and over 90 percent of her planet's population. He hurt her and took pleasure in it. In her eyes he was villainous. In his own eyes he was villainous, and he couldn't change that no matter how much ill-placed faith the woman had in him. She bit her bleeding lip and Raditz turned away from her.

"You promise not to kill them?" she called softly.

"On my honor," Raditz swore emptily without looking back at her.

"Okay."

Her voice was once again hollow. Resigned. Accepting. Raditz had no desire for her this way, not really. He _should_ destroy this final city and finish his brother's task. He _should_ annihilate Bulma along with the last of her planet's population. But he already knew he would do neither of those things. He could not – would not – kill the little blue woman. And he would not kill her people, either, because he would not kill the faith she had in him. It was the naïve faith of earth's people that had conquered Kakarrot. Raditz understood that now. And he had willingly let it conquer him.

He stood. "I will come to collect you when my ship arrives. Do not hide, or I will consider our bargain forfeited." She nodded numbly and he took it as affirmation. "You may expect my return within the week."

"Okay."

Raditz left her then for the second time that day, unsure if he was pleased with himself or not.


	6. Bump-and-Run

**Playing Raditz's Game**

_Bump-and-Run_

Bulma devoted the next week to trying to avoid her arrangement with Raditz. The effort proved futile; there was no one left to help her now. Master Roshi's entire island was a wasteland and it proved impossible to find any of her friends. Krillin, Yamcha,Tien... everyone was MIA. Probably literally, but Bulma refused to focus on that. She didn't dare venture to the Lookout to verify for the fear of exposing it and Kami to Raditz. She still had the vague hope of finding Goku and Gohan and escaping back to this ravaged earth with them, bringing back the four star ball with them and righting the wrong Raditz had caused.

It was a long shot, but she hoped.

On the seventh day Bulma returned to the little house in the woods and waited. She wondered if there was anything she needed to pack or if packing would just make her look silly. On the one hand she was certain there would be no luxuries where she was going and if she wanted nice things she would have to bring them herself. On the other she was aware that proving herself to be as frivolous as she looked probably wasn't be the wisest thing she could do. In the end she decided it was best to go without. She didn't really need any of her trinkets or gadgets out there in space, anyway. They probably had technology out there that would make her inventions look about as advanced as a caveman's club. Instead she took a long bath and pampered herself one last time (because who knew when she'd have the next opportunity?) and then dressed in the simplest outfit she could find. As intended, the blue tee shirt and khaki shorts she chose fit her frame loosely. She didn't want to stand out wherever it was Raditz was taking her.

She didn't want to catch anyone's eye.

Her hair was still dripping and wet when she felt him. Raditz's presence was nearly a tangible thing to her now, horrible and overpowering. He waited semi-politely outside of the house for her to emerge and only put one small dent in the wall when she didn't appear as quickly as he would have liked. Bulma rushed through the lacing of her boots, eager to get out before he brought the whole thing crashing down upon her.

"Calm down," she berated, stepping out into the bright sunshine. She noted that worry flickered over Raditz's features for a fraction of a moment and wondered what it could mean.

"Bulma," he said flatly. "As promised, I have not destroyed your planet."

She looked around the still forest. There was no way for her to verify that, but she decided to take his word for it. "Uh... thanks."

"My pod has arrived to return us to my home," he continued. "When we arrive you are to tell anyone who asks that you alone are the sole survivor of this planet."

That sounded reasonable enough. "Okay, but what about when they come to sell this place to the highest bidder?"

"They won't," Raditz said swiftly. He looked almost nervous. "I've already filed a report with my superiors labeling this planet as insufficient and unsuitable for habitation."

Bulma's eyes went wide with shock. "You... what? You mean they won't come back here?!"

Raditz nodded, "Not for a long time... I cited that my second Oozaru transformation damaged the..."

"I don't care what you did," Bulma gushed, flinging herself towards him. He stiffened as she wrapped her arms around his thickly muscled body. "Thank you."

He awkwardly patted her back. "We need to go now."

"Whatever you say," Bulma chirruped, allowing Raditz to pick her up off the ground. She wrapped her arms around his neck tightly, preparing herself for flight. She didn't even care, she was so happy. Raditz had lied for her and hidden her planet from whoever and whatever was controlling him. He was as good as golden in her eyes in that moment. Earth would be safe for a while yet and she could focus on bringing Goku and Gohan back home. Heck, maybe Raditz would even help her achieve it. He jolted into the air and she clung tighter to his frame, burying her face against his chest.

As they flew, Bulma didn't allow herself to think too hard about Raditz's character. If she had she would have become concerned with the glaring inconsistencies he presented. One moment he said he would kill her, the next he lied to save her planet. First he exposed himself to her leering, and now he shied away from her touch. With her eyes closed and her head on his chest, she could feel his every breath, every beat of his heart. It was easy for a moment to forget he was a murderer and that he was stealing her away from her home. But only for a moment, then she mentally shook the false security his arms brought away.

This was all just a part of his game.

They landed in a desert on the precipice of a large crater. He sat Bulma down and she clung to his arm for fear of falling. A ship waited for them in its center – he had called it a pod – and she frowned. It looked awfully small. Hardly the kind of thing she wanted to be traipsing off into the unknown bowels of the universe inside of, that was for sure.

"It looks small," she blurted.

"You're not very big," he replied bluntly, lifting her again.

He tucked her under his arm and jumped into the crater, keying in his entry. The door slowly lifted open, revealing a bare and functional interior. Bulma was unimpressed. She crossed her arms and he placed her back on her own two feet to settle down inside of the pod. She had half a mind to make a run for it. As if he saw the thought cross her mind he snapped his arm back out, grabbing her by the wrist and yanking her down into his lap.

"No you don't," he growled in her ear. "You're not going anywhere, little woman."

Bulma felt very small then as he held her still. The Saiyan began to fiddle with the controls and the door shut tightly, the airlock hissing menacingly. The sunlight that filtered in through the window was tinted red by the glass and Bulma suddenly felt the fullness of her constriction. The reality that there was no going back now hit her and she wiggled against Raditz, struggling for some semblance of freedom. He could at least let go of her now; there was no possible way for her to escape anymore. She stopped moving when she heard him chuckle and blushed when he asked her why she stopped.

A computer spoke to them – _initiating launch sequence,_ and before Bulma had time to even think about how such an odd contraption as the pod would fling itself into space, they were moving. Raditz sank further into the seat, creating more room for Bulma. She tried to shift out of his lap as best she could only for him to yank her body back towards his, securing her to him with both arm and tail. Whatever qualms he had had previously about contact, he seemed to be over them now. She craned her neck back to get a look at him and in the dim light she could just make out his face. His eyes were closed and his face was peaceful, as if he were resting.

"The air filtration system will put you into artificial sleep before we leave the atmosphere," he explained before she could ask. "It protects our bodies by placing them in suspension for the duration of our travels."

Bulma nodded – she was already feeling sleepy. "How long does that take?"

"Approximately two months," Raditz answered.

Two months?! That was outrageous! She wanted to protest, wanted to complain, but whatever gas that was in the airstream was doing a number on her awareness, making her less and less alert by the second. Her eyelids drooped and her head lolled to the side, eventually resting upon Raditz's shoulder. She felt the Saiyan's breathing just beginning to even out as consciousness left her, traded for dreamless sleep.

* * *

Goku had not seen Gohan since he and Nappa had begun training. His new mentor kept telling him that if he was good and if he performed well that something could be arranged, but Goku was beginning to believe Nappa was lying to him. Every day Nappa collected him from the room where he slept with some thirty or so other warriors and they went to the third training arena so that Nappa could beat him within an inch of his life. He would then be taken to the regeneration tanks – horrible machines, all of them – and be released from the infirmary in time to make the end of the lunch hours. His afternoons were devoted to pretending to learn things like the code of conduct expected of soldiers serving the Cold Empire, or how to use the scouters and other machines utilized by the warriors.

Goku endured all the teaching patiently and did everything he was asked for the chance to see Gohan again as soon as possible. Yet there he was, three weeks into his stay on 2414, and he had yet to lay eyes on his son. He didn't know how that was even possible; the station was tiny, barely housing the 500 or so men assigned there. How they managed to conceal Gohan baffled him. If he focused he could feel Gohan's energy throughout the place, flickering up or down with emotion, but it was difficult to pinpoint him. His senses were dulled by constant use of the scouter, and even if he could locate Gohan's precise location, Goku knew he couldn't just rush in and take his son back from these people. This was their world and he had to play by their rules. They were still much, much stronger than him and Goku wasn't a fool. Naive maybe, but not foolish.

"Get up, Kakarrot, we're not finished here."

It was the middle of the morning and Nappa and Goku were training. Already Goku's armor was dented and cracked, and the skin tight fabric of his uniform was torn around the knees. Nappa's training was relentless and as much as Goku resented it, he relished it. He played along for Gohan's sake, but it would be a lie to say he wasn't beginning to enjoy himself. Training with another Saiyan gave Goku opportunities to test his limits like he had never had before. It was a challenge he could appreciate.

"Get _up_," Nappa snarled, kicking him roughly. Goku coughed at the impact and pulled himself together, standing on wobbly legs. Once he was up Nappa took the go-ahead and laid back into him, fists connecting with his gut and jaw with such raw tenacity that Goku could only block half of what was thrown at him.

Nappa was an incredible opponent.

He had just split his lip when Nappa called off training. Goku wiped his mouth, wincing slightly as blood trickled down his chin. He could taste it, raw and metallic and not entirely unpleasant. Nappa smirked at him.

"You're improving, Kakarrot," he said, clapping him on the shoulder.

Goku's knees buckled, "Thank you, sir."

"Still not good enough to see your son, though."

The words were still ringing in his ears when Nappa lifted him by the shoulder and tossed him into the arena wall. Goku hit head first with a loud crack, and more blood splashed against the pristine white of the wall. At first he couldn't move; he was certain that he was dying. But then something lit inside of him, an absolute and final rage. He made himself stand up again, woozy from blood loss as the wound in his head flowed, and crouched into a feral battle stance. Now Nappa truly smiled.

"There you are, Kakarrot," he boomed. "I was beginning to think you'd never come crawling out of there."

Goku attacked him blindly.

After that his memory blanked until he was waking up from the regeneration tank. The smelly goo was draining around his feet when he regained consciousness and he ripped the breather from his face, glaring at the doctors. They remained unimpressed at his temper tantrum, but the tech assistant released him nonetheless and he stepped out of the tank where Nappa was waiting. The larger Saiyan stunk of regeneration gel, too.

"How are you feeling, Kakarrot?" he asked as the doctors fawned over Goku, passing him a towel first and then clothes.

Goku wiped gel from his face and squeezed it from his hair, "Fine. I feel fine."

Nappa nodded. "Are you ready to see your son?"

He considered it, dropping the towel and pulling on the fresh uniform. He hadn't seen Gohan since his arrival three weeks ago, that was true, but it just didn't seem all that important anymore. He dug a finger in his ear and flicked the droplets of regeneration gel he pulled out away from him.

After a while he answered, "I'd rather train."

Nappa's face contorted to a contented scowl. "Excellent."


	7. Error

**Playing Raditz's Game**

_Error_

Goku and Nappa didn't train as soon as they left the infirmary. Instead they went to the dining hall, where meals had been set aside for them at Nappa's request. They had missed dining hours when their last session went over and Goku had spent an inordinate amount of time in the regeneration tank, presumably from the trauma of his head wound. Even now it still felt tender, but that was alright. It was something he could work through and as soon as he finished his meal, he was itching to return to training. Nappa wasn't as eager but conceded to break schedule and the pair had returned to their usual arena, but what occurred there was anything but usual.

Training was a different experience this time. Goku was totally uninhibited. The realization that he legitimately couldn't hurt Nappa finally set in and it left a bitter taste in Goku's mouth. After years of being the strongest he was suddenly at the bottom of the totem pole and angrily he threw himself into the conflict, burned that this was his best. Nappa was laughing at him and Goku was offended. A desire to be taken seriously had been seeded in him and his emotions were raw and unrefined.

Everything bothered him.

Vaguely he was aware that he should have chosen to see Gohan, his son. In the back of his mind the father in him was screaming at the warrior to back down and out of the fight, but Goku refused to yield to the call. It could wait, and so it did. Nappa swore that Gohan was being taken care of elsewhere in the compound; he wasn't in any _real _danger.

Weeks passed and the voice in Goku's head crying out for Gohan gradually silenced, only to shriek back to life and ebb away slowly once more. It was disorienting and always left him unsettled, so he immersed himself in his training and excelled like he always had. His days fell one into the other seamlessly and never ending. Sleep eluded him but tiredness didn't creep into his bones, and if his attitude soured he wasn't aware of it, or maybe it was just expected. No one on 2414 was particularly happy. Sometimes it made Goku sad, and sometimes he just didn't care. He was constantly waffling back and forth and back, leaving him confused and agitated.

Nappa only offered to let him see Gohan on days when he had no desire to see him. On the shrieking days, when his entire being craved just the sight of his son, just a glance to make sure he was okay if nothing else, Nappa didn't let him out of his sight. Then they would hit the arena and the bigger Saiyan would keep him there most if not all of the day, beating him black and blue without remorse. On a normal day Goku could almost be fooled into thinking of Nappa as not quite a friend, but a definitely a comrade. But the moment Nappa thought Goku showed any sign of weakness the facade was torn away and it became clear just how distasteful Nappa found him.

But Nappa's abuse was making him stronger in leaps and bounds. The regeneration tanks didn't help the process very much that was true, but regardless Goku was exhibiting marked improvement. Nappa said he was getting smarter and soon they would begin work integrating him into 'the team.' It was abundantly clear that Goku had very little experience fighting as a unit and since the unit was the basic premise of Frieza's army, he would have to learn. Nappa had already explained that he would probably be paired away with Raditz since the pair of them were now likely on the same skill level.

"Wouldn't be surprised if you passed him over soon, though," Nappa said between bites.

They were taking their evening meal after a gruesomely long day in the training arena and they were both famished. The topic of Goku's brother had come up because Raditz was due back on 2414 any day. Knowing that Raditz was on his way back left a hollow feeling in his chest for which Goku couldn't account. He knew it meant that the earth had been purged, and that made him feel sad. He also knew he wasn't supposed to feel that way. Not at all. The more he thought about it the more he felt like he was supposed to be mourning, so instead he hid his grief with laughter. Goku shoveled his food into his mouth carelessly. He didn't want Nappa thinking he was weak. Instead he chose to capitalize on the moment to mock Raditz, which seemed to be a favorite pass time of Nappa's, and as quickly as the sorrow for his home world had appeared, it was gone and forgotten.

"Yeah... he ish kinda pafetic," Goku jeered, still shoving food into his mouth. The meals provided for them weren't the worst thing he had ever tasted, but they were far from the best. They didn't lack, though. No one starved.

Nappa swallowed hard, his expression scandalized. "Honestly Kakarott, would it kill you to chew with your trap closed? That's disgusting."

"Sorry," Goku said, gulping. Nappa twitched slightly in annoyance and Goku rolled his eyes. To be an elite warrior, Nappa sure could be a girl about things sometimes. He also insisted Goku bathe at least once a day, and that he brush his teeth and even his hair. Goku didn't think Nappa had any authority about the hair thing.

"Anyway..." Nappa continued,"I don't disagree with you. Raditz is weaker than he ought to be. Your brother doesn't take his training seriously like you and I do."

"What a shame," Goku allowed, reaching for his drink.

"He's slippery, though, Raditz is," Nappa said. "He's got more friends in more places than Prince Vegeta's got enemies, and that's saying something."

This piqued Goku's interest and gingerly he put his cup back down. "Say, Nappa..."

"Hm?"

"When am I going to meet Prince Vegeta?"

Nappa sighed and wiped his mouth. "Whenever the Price decides he's willing to meet you. He's very busy, Kakarott."

He nodded in acknowledgment and finished his plate before yawning. Nappa chuckled.

"Did I wear you out, Kakarott?" the burly Saiyan asked.

Goku had the sense to be embarrassed. "A little bit," he conceded.

"Then get some rest," Nappa said, his tone almost fond. "We've got another full day tomorrow."

"Right," Goku said. They never took breaks.

He stood up and turned to leave and as he did so, he realized Nappa was letting him go by himself. It was a first; Nappa never allowed him to roam the station alone. Normally he never left Nappa's sight. Goku didn't pause to wonder what the sudden allowance of freedom could mean. He just seized it, striding out from the dining hall proudly and totally unchaperoned. It was less than a five minute walk to his quarters, but it was five minute of pristine solitude without Nappa breathing down his neck.

It didn't occur to him at any point during his lack of supervision to go find Gohan. He didn't think about it at all.

* * *

Gohan slept like a rock. The boy wasn't good for training in much longer than four hour stints and when he grew too tired to keep form, Vegeta simply let him sleep. It did no good to push someone so small too far beyond his limits. In the end it would hurt the boy more than help him and besides that it was far more of a hassle to listen to Gohan's crying than it was to let him nap. While the whelp rested he could continue his own training unhindered as well, which made nap-time a mutually beneficial activity. Vegeta could take Gohan into training after they breakfasted, then return him to his quarters once the boy was thoroughly exhausted. He then could see to his own training before lunch, at which point he would collect the boy again and return to training the toddler.

The boy had the decency to be a good student and absorbed his training well which made it difficult for Vegeta to entirely despise him. He was an annoyance and a chore still but he was also very entertaining, a fact which Vegeta would sooner be caught dead than admit to anyone. The child had very little sense of how the world worked and believed everything Vegeta said without question in blind faith. Gohan was very stupid in that way, Vegeta had realized. It was normal childish behavior, but it was the type of behavior that would end up getting him killed sooner rather than later. Gohan trusted easily and had completely attached himself to the prince within days of being dropped in his care. Vegeta vaguely thought it must have to do with the fact that he more or less took care of him, and since Vegeta didn't allow for Gohan's basic needs to go unfulfilled, Gohan had mistaken that for care on Vegeta's part.

It was all very laughable.

Vegeta keyed open the door to his quarters and Gohan rushed around his legs and into the dark room. With ease now the boy pulled off his armor and boots and clambered into his bed, his expression foul tempered and tired. Vegeta rolled his eyes and closed the door, locking Gohan in for his own safety. It had been close to two months since Gohan's well being had been entrusted to him and Vegeta honestly didn't know how much longer the toddler would be his problem. He had hoped it would be a short ordeal – two weeks at the most – but that didn't seem to be the case. There was no word yet on when he or Nappa would be sent on another mission and it was seeming more and more unlikely that they would be receiving further orders any time soon.

Occasionally he would meet with his former bodyguard to discuss their charges for the purpose of keeping sure that they didn't cross paths. Kakarott's psyche was unstable at best and Nappa feared that catching sight of his son would trigger a relapse in his damaged brain. Vegeta hadn't yet took the time to meet Kakarott, but from what Nappa said he was inclined to agree. He also believed it would be counterproductive to reintroduce Gohan to his father. The brat had only stopped sniveling about _daddy this_ and _daddy that _a few weeks prior. He didn't want to restart that phase if he could help it. Instead he and Nappa were very careful to avoid each other. Nappa started the day with Kakarott earlier than Vegeta began his with Gohan, and they always trained in different arenas. When lunch came Vegeta took Gohan early and made sure to be gone before Kakarott and Nappa had even finished training. In the afternoons Nappa and Kakarott took their dinner late while Vegeta and Gohan had already dined and were usually settling into bed. It took a bit more work than Vegeta was really willing to admit to prepare Gohan for bed but he was, after all, a baby. He supposed it was too be expected. Sometimes he just left Gohan in the room alone and went else where in the station until he was certain the brat had put himself to sleep.

The prince waited until the door had audibly locked before returning to the arenas to train. When he had Gohan with him he was restricted to the third and fourth arenas, which were the most laid back. When he was on his own he preferred the fifth because it was the most challenging of the five available. Vegeta lived for a challenge. That was part of what made the situation with the brat so obnoxious – there was no challenge in it, aside from the challenge of not killing him, which was less challenging than it was just tedious.

He wanted missions. He wanted opportunities to test his body to its brink so that he could grow stronger more rapidly. He and Nappa were only given missions to planets where a point needed to be made. If he and Nappa were being sent it meant that total annihilation was the expectation in a 24 hour time frame. All in all it wasn't a bad gig, except for the down time. They were mostly for show. He had realized that a long time ago. They weren't given chances to fight and purge regularly for a reason and Vegeta liked to think most of that reason was Frieza's fear. If he could train a little harder, push a little farther, he would surely become a Super Saiyan. A legend.

With that thought in mind Vegeta entered arena five, quickly picking fights with the other warriors there. He was a ruthless fighter who had never fought a fair fight in his life and he swiftly defeated the few combatants available to him. It was pathetic how little competition they provided and in his victory, however meaningless, he grew cocky.

It didn't matter what limitations Frieza tried to impose on him; he would achieve his goal in due time. He knew it.


End file.
